


time will bid and make us rise, make ravens of us all

by unlovelySara



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Modern AU, One Shot Collection, Post-Series, R plus L equals J, Ten Songs Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlovelySara/pseuds/unlovelySara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten flashfictions/one-shots that try to explore Jon and Arya’s relationship with different settings and situations. Each chapter is an independent story, inspired by a song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We come together ‘cause I understand just who you really are, baby

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Sooo, I think I’m still pretty new in this fandom and this is my first attempt at writing something about GoT/ASOIAF, but I hope I did a decent job... I just love these two too much, have mercy on me :'D

####  _We come together ‘cause I understand just who you really are, baby_

#####  **[Little Sister – Queens Of The Stone Age]** [ _[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hGRqnNEOpe0)_ ] [ _[lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/queensofthestoneage/littlesister.html)_ ]  
**{ _modern!AU_ }**

As soon as Arya had crossed the threshold of home, Jon had realized that something wasn’t right: he caught a glimpse of her eyes – dark and angry as a stormy sea – and her heavy stumps on the stairs followed by her room’s door slamming were the evidence of his suspicions.  
He locked eyes with Bran, who was watching _Sense8_ sprawled on the couch, and his stepbrother simply muttered “You’re the only one who can make her spit it out, but good luck anyway”  
“Thanks, pal” Jon sighed, patting Rickon’s head on his way to Arya’s bedroom.  
Once there he knocked a couple of times, but she didn’t answer back. Instead, he could hear the music coming from her headphones with greater intensity.  
_Nine Inch Nails_ …  
Arya mostly listened to them under two circumstances – when she needed a boost of adrenaline while doin’ some fencing training or when she was pissed off as hell – and she didn’t look like someone who wants to swordplay in the immediate future.  
“Arya, coming in!” he added, but had to go back on his word when he found out that she had locked herself in.  
_Seven hells… Has World War III broken out an’ nobody told me?_

1.15 AM.  
7 missed calls and 245 Whatsapp notifications later Arya was still laying on her bed, planning how to murder her sister and that stupid bull of her lab partner in the most painful ways.  
She took off the headphones and rubbed her temples, unable to understand why in this galaxy had she thought that entrusting such an important task to those two idiots could have possibly turned successful.  
She let out an exasperated growl and buried her face in the pillow, hoping that some kind of meteorite could crush her to an immediate death, when a sudden noise made her shelve that project.  
_Pebbles on the glass_ , she thought, _this can only be him._  
The girl’s suspicions were confirmed once she opened the window and found Jon in the garden, his brightest smile worn as some sort of armor.  
_Seventeen friggin’ years and that smile could still make her heart ache…_  
She shook her head and regained a bit of composure.  
“The hell are you doin’ here?!” she hissed, still not sounding too much convincing.  
“Coming in, lil’ sis”  
“And what if I don’t want you ins-” Arya stopped in mid-sentence, because her stepbrother was already climbing the porch dripping with wisteria.  
She stepped aside and went to sit on her bed, cursing Jon’s ability to deal with her in every single situation.  
“What now?!” she blurted out when he sat crossed-legged in front of her and gave her a flick on the chin.  
“That was my cue, Arya! You wound me”  
Arya rolled her eyes and threw him a pillow, but the young man was able to dodge it.  
“C’mon, just spit it out” he added, the teasing tone in his voice completely disappeared.  
“Long story short, Gendry has volunteered to buy tickets for the Pearl Jam gig in Philadelphia – and notice that they’re playin’ two nights in a row – but in the end that idiot didn’t because Sansa told him that I was already tryin’ to buy ‘em online, and when he found out that I hadn’t bought ‘em due to dad’s credit card givin’ me problems it was too late, seeing that both of Philly concerts were already sold-out… Can you fuckin’ believe it?!” she blurted out in one breath, her knuckles white with anger “Yesterday they even played _VS._ in Greenville – every single track! – and here I am, eatin’ my liver-”  
“… _with some fava beans and a nice Chianti_?”  
This time the pillow landed perfectly on his face.  
“… eatin’ my liver and cursing myself for being so stupid! I told him two months ago to look for those goddamn tickets, and that’s what I gain! Fuckin’ unbelievable”  
“And you would have gone all the way to Philadelphia? Why there?”  
“I think he’s got a couple of friends who study there and we could have crashed their apartment… I dunno and right now I couldn’t care less”  
“Hmmm, and why not N.Y.? I mean, visiting the places where _The Godfather_ , _Dog Day Afternoon_ and _Taxi Driver_ were filmed sounds like somethin’ you’d do”  
“… not to mention _Midnight Cowboy_ , _Serpico_ and _The Wolf Of Wall Street_ , huh?” she sighed “If only I had won the lottery…”  
“Why win the lottery when you’ve got a stepbrother like me?”  
Arya’s head immediately shot up, her whole body coming to attention; Jon smiled at himself, then cleared his throat.  
“I was waitin’ for your birthday, but I guess a few days earlier will do all the same” he rummaged the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a couple of tickets that now were waving in front of her nose “Get ready, little wolf: in a couple of weeks we’ll be headin’ to the Madison Square Garden”  
“ARE YOU FUCKIN’ KIDDIN’ ME?!” the girl shouted out, eyes almost plopping out of her head. She had probably waken up the entire Stark mansion, but she couldn’t care less.  
When her stepbrother shook his head, Arya literally threw her arms round his neck and proceeded to shower him with infinite thank you’s, laughs and kisses.  
“Oh, we must totally celebrate, Jon! We must!” she added, retrieving her iPod and offering him an earbud.  
As the first notes of _Off He Goes_ started to play, Jon stood up and offered her his hand, leading her to an improvised yet graceful slow-dance.  
Oddly enough, Arya had immediately accepted the invitation.  
“Nobody has ever done something like this for me… not even Father” she whispered after a while, head resting against his chest “I’m so glad you’re in my life, I can’t imagine what I’d do without you”  
“Neither can I, lil’ sis” he tightened the embrace “Neither can I.”  
And never words had sounded more honest than those. Never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear it, by the Old Gods and the New: the start of this collection might be shitty, but it will improve... you’ll see!
> 
> So, here Arya is 17 and Jon 20-ish? 19? Idk, I honestly didn’t put much thought into it; I just know that here he kinda took a gap year before starting to attend college – so he’s still living at Winterfell with his half-siblings – and when he was a child he had also lost a year of school following his mother’s death, yeah.  
> I don’t know how I came up with it, but I imagined that Winterfell’s location might be in northern Michigan, in between Pigeon River Country State Forest Area and Atlanta State Forest Area... maybe for the weather, idk. (if somebody’s from this area, lemme know if Catelyn has ever baked you some lemoncake!)
> 
> I’ve also written about two strong headcanons that I have for Arya: the first one is that she listens to a lot of 90s alternative stuff and she literally worships three bands – Nine Inch Nails, Rage Against The Machine and Pearl Jam – so I found her reaction to a missed PJ gig pretty much plausible... I think. ( _VS._ is PJ’s 1993 album, a masterpiece.)  
>  The second is her undying love for both Pacino and De Niro’s 70s/early 80s filmography, because why the hell not?  
> (and yeah, Jon is quoting _The Silence of the Lambs_... gotta love that guy!)
> 
>  _Off He Goes_ is one of my favorite Pearl Jam’s songs and it’s perfect for Jon and Arya slowdancing: [I'm sure you’ll have to agree with me.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5s1d1G4Rko)
> 
> I think that’s it: if you got suggestions about the American weather/lifestyle/school system/random topic, you wanna discuss with me about Arya’s or other characters’ headcanons or simply let me know what you think about this one-shot, don’t be shy! I won’t bite, I promise :D  
> You’ll just have to be patient with me: I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language and sometimes mistakes can happen :'D  
> Have a nice day!
> 
> Sara


	2. My love, he breathed the air of kings, yet fell beneath his luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A direwolf reaches a young woman on top of the hill._

####  _My love, he breathed the air of kings, yet fell beneath his luck_

#####  **[Ravens – Patti Smith]** [ _[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mmC76nc0lw)_ ] [ _[lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/pattismith/ravens.html)_ ]  
**{ _post-GoT_ }**

A direwolf reaches a young woman on top of the hill; she slowly buries the muzzle in her hand, waiting for the caresses that her owner will surely give her.  
Wet blood drips down her chin, but the girl doesn’t care: she loves her direwolf, and everything that she represents.  
Her past, for example.  
The times when Bran still walked, Rickon wasn’t a savage and Sansa could still believe in her ballads full of knights in shining armors; the days when Mother and Father were still looking upon all of their children, Robb and Theon challenged each other with wooden swords and Jon wasn’t the great hero that now everybody knew.  
She didn’t want to share him with anybody, and now the entire Westeros was claiming him as its Lord and savior… but only after the truth had been spoken.  
Nobody had wanted to deal with him when he was only a bastard – son of the honorable Eddard Stark, indeed, but still a bastard – even if each day he had encouraged her to stay true to herself, and many times he had dried the tears from her eyes.  
Nobody knows he was a hero way before falling in the battlefield, and nobody has ever cared about it. Only she does.  
As if sensing her hurt, Nymeria painfully whines and licks her hand; Arya’s eyes are clouded with tears, however she finds the strength to scratch the soft skin behind its ear and smile at what was once a lost pup – now a beast, fierce and beautiful.

A flock of ravens flies in circle upon Winterfell, their feathers lulled by the Northern winds.  
A young woman stands on top of a near hill, arms spread as wings, swearing to herself that someday she will reach her lost love, wherever he might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s my little try at what might be one of the final moments of the entire saga: Arya is back at Winterfell with Nymeria, the war has ended and Jon – who has found out to be a Targaryen – has died, this time for real.  
> I don’t know who’s on the Iron Throne, how many Starks are still alive to see Winterfell taken back and in which circumstances Jon dies, but before dying he finally got to meet Arya and they professed their undying love for each other (yeah, I know, I’m a masochistic lil’ piece of shit :'D).  
> So yeah, that’s all.
> 
> Again, thanks to anybody who’ll read this and maybe leave me a few words to let me know how this piece of work is going, and have a nice day!
> 
> Sara


	3. How long can dust wait? Ask the moon, but ask him soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate!AU: _when the characters are fated to be together, sometimes through multiple lives and/or into the afterlife_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first attempt at this popular trope: for this one-shot I used two prompts to inspire me, “the one where you first meet him/her in your dreams” and “the one with the clock that counts down the time until you meet your soulmate”.
> 
> Arya might be a bit – _a lot_ , ugh – out of character... Forgive me u_u

####  _How long can dust wait? Ask the moon, but ask him soon_

#####  **[Dust And Water – Antony and the Johnsons]** [ _[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49P3sSctpic)_ ] [ _[lyrics](http://lyrics.wikia.com/wiki/Antony_And_The_Johnsons:Dust_And_Water)_ ]  
**{ _soulmate!AU_ }**

It’s dark.  
As I’m walking again on this dusty path, I can finally hear something else besides my steps; gentle waters gurgling near me, as if they’re calling me, wanting to wrap my ankles.  
Am I supposed to cross this river? Is this the night I’m finally meeting you?  
Please, bear some patience with me: after all these years, the world has given me only dust and water, water and dust…  
I know I’m being impulsive, I know. Forgive me, my mother has always told me that.  
The wind suddenly rises the dust, creating a distant human figure that seems to look directly at me.  
Wait.  
He’s real – _you are real_... I knew it was you. I knew it!  
My pace begins to quicken and I can’t feel my legs anymore; it’s like I’m floating towards you, the wind carrying me on his back, and me – oh, me! – so impatient to finally look at your features for the first time…  
I’m here, in front of you, and my ribcage almost explodes when your grey eyes lock with mine and your tight lips melt into the most precious smile I’ve ever seen.  
“You’re here,” you whisper, and I swear that I’ve never heard a husky voice sweeter than yours “I can’t believe it, after all this time…”  
“It’s been seventeen years, I was almost startin’ to believe that we would have never found each other” I sob, my face pressed against your chest as you hold me with the strength and the desperation of a thousand winds.  
“Twenty-three springs, _little wolf_ ” you add, letting out a soft laugh when your nickname makes me shiver “Did you think I’d leave you here forever?”  
I immediately shake my head, biting my lower lip – it doesn’t want to stop quivering like a stupid leaf – and you bring your face closer to mine.  
As you kiss my forehead, I can feel your curls drying my eyes; I truly believe that I’m going to die here, in this moment, but it doesn’t matter… after tonight, _it won’t matter anymore_.  
“Find me in the real world, little wolf; now is the time.” and, as these words escape your lips, you begin to disappear.  
I want to ask your name, to beg you to take me again in your arms, but my mouth doesn’t make any sound at all.

Instead, it’s morning and I’m in my bed; the alarm is ringing the start of a new, boring day of my life and all I want is for Morpheus to pay me visit as soon as possible, but this can’t happen.  
“The watch!” I shout out, rushing to the desk and opening all of its drawers.  
There are old broken drumsticks, a couple of NIN albums, the sporty bra that I was looking for months ago…  
_Come on, you little fucker! I don’t wanna play hide and seek!_  
And maybe I’ve got some kind of superpower, because the damn watch finally appears among all this holy mess; the countdown says it will be forty minutes – thirty-nine – and I will finally meet you.  
Wait. _Forty minutes?_  
When did this thing speed up? Last time I checked it said that three years had to pass before our meeting, and now- _the dream, holy shit!_  
I start to get changed as quickly as I can, and my gaze falls upon the window: the breeze carries the first drops of this April rain against the glass. They collide with each other, crawling like liquid snakes and describing lines and curves, and I finally see it: _Jon, your name is Jon…_  
I smile at myself and run outside, ready to face who my destiny has always had in store for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told ya that Arya was painfully OOC! But this song is so soothing that I couldn’t resist the temptation of writing her in a different light.  
> In this parallel universe soulmates are an official thing, so even people like Arya enjoy fairytales :D  
> Well, what can I add? Oh, a serious question: I know that here I made Arya 17 and Jon 23, because in Italy we don’t think that this age gap is horrifying but, seriously; if in your country this age difference is too much, _let me know_.  
>  I mean, it’s already difficult writing in English... imagine how hard it can be if you also come from a different background/culture.  
> So, if this choice of mine offended you, don’t hesitate to let me know: I’m here to learn (:
> 
> Aaand, speaking of other important things: I introduced another strong headcanon that I have for my little Arya, which is her being a drummer :'D I can totally see her rocking behind a drum-set, and you can’t make me deny it ;)  
> (and yeah, Nine Inch Nails are back. They always are.)
> 
> I don’t think I have anything else to add; just let me know if you enjoyed this silly piece of fic, I swear that next chapter will be better!  
> Have a nice day,
> 
> Sara


	4. This is a time for believing in fairytales, one in which you are brought back to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The streets of Braavos are Blind Beth’s home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still haven’t read the books, so I’m not sure about what I’m going to say, but I’ll say it anyway: if I remember correctly, when Arya is still blind she doesn’t find out about Jon’s death, huh?  
> So yeah, this is basically how I think Arya would react at this news.

####  _This is a time for believing in fairytales, one in which you are brought back to me_

#####  **[Wolf – Veruca Salt]** [ _[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUFwvbMU1VU)_ ] [ _[lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/verucasalt/wolf.html)_ ]  
**{ _What If?_ }**

The streets of Braavos are Blind Beth’s home, and the whispers that swarm about them are her most precious coins.  
Right now she’s standing outside the Inn of the Green Eel, hoping that some servant will give her a piece of stew under the counter or that some customer will let slip some useful information.  
She’s trying to remember when was the last time she had a decent meal, when suddenly she hears a couple of men – Pentoshi, even if she doesn’t master their language yet – having an animated conversation.  
“Some bastard of the North becoming Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, you say?”  
“Aye, I am”  
“Seven hells, Westeros is truly up shit creek”  
“Just wait, the best is yet to come: he had socialized a bit too much with the wildlings, so some of his sworn brothers got pissed off and practically stabbed him in the back – _and not only there_ ”  
“… all that sexual abstinence can only go to their heads”  
“Well said, my friend”  
“… what did you say his name was?”  
“As a matter of fact, I didn’t” the man paused to drink “Jon Snow, Ned Stark’s bastard”  
“Well, the Starks are famous for their bad luck: it runs in their blood, along with their bloody honor”  
Blind Beth almost forgets how to breath: she hasn’t got a family, nor does she know any Ned Stark or Jon Snow… _but somebody else does_.  
The young beggar runs through the streets of Braavos, quick as a wolf in the wind, her mask already beginning to crack.  
As she rummages in the gaps of the stairs that lead to the House of Black and White, not minding the cuts that are appearing on her hands, her lips continue to murmur some sentences learned by heart.  
“I’m Blind Beth,” she says, scratching a brick of clay “I’ve got no family of my own, not a roof on my head or a hot meal in my belly”  
_Who are you?_  
The crumbled clay seeps under her broken nails, but the little girl goes on with her search.  
_No one_.  
The sudden cold of the blade against her flesh soothes all the pain.  
“I’m no one.” she says, sheathing Needle and making her way to Ragman’s Harbor. 

Blind Beth has no eyes, and yet she can picture a familiar face under her eyelids: dark curls, irises of the color of the smoke, a smile sweet and sharp as this blade.  
“My brother gave me this sword” she mutters to herself, her feet engulfed by the waves of the Shivering Sea, her mask finally melting away.  
“My brother gave me this sword and all I did was coming here, instead of helping him…” the girl sobs, regaining her memories of a castle lost in the snow, full of laughter and idle chatter.  
She remembers a broken shell and lavender flowers left in her chamber at Winterfell, gifts from the only one that would have still accepted her, even after all the atrocities she has committed.  
She has never wished before that one of those stupid ballads that her sister used to torment everybody with was true… but now she yearns for a fairytale in which he can come back and finally find her.  
_Jon…_  
After many moons, Arya Stark allows herself to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The broken shell and lavander flowers that Jon has given her are mentioned in the song, so I played around with this quote :3  
> Hope to see you all on the next chapter too, have a nice day (:


	5. Well I hope she’s not alone, smiling everywhere she goes, so sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is studying abroad, brooding over what he has left back at Winterfell.

####  _Well I hope she’s not alone, smiling everywhere she goes, so sweet_

#####  **[Pill Hill Serenade – Mark Lanegan]** [ _[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRAdzF2Ft2k)_ ] [ _[lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/marklanegan/pillhillserenade.html)_ ]  
**{ _modern!AU_ }**

_‘Study abroad’, they said; ‘it will be fun’, they said…_  
The young man quickly walks under what seems to be sleet, his hoodie trying to cover all his curls.  
“Seven hells…” he mutters, after he gets his Converse soaked thanks to a puddle “This Australian surfer myth has to go fuck itself”  
The board outside the chemist’s says that Canberra is offering them 2 °C – that is 35 °F, damned European scales – and this number can only make Jon bury its face deeper in the giant scarf he has bought not so long ago.  
_It’s April and, instead of showing off some Bermuda shorts, I’m just freezing myself… totally_ Home Alone _style, this is insane!_  
He stops at a red light and watches the cars roll by: a couple inside a taxi bursts out laughing and then shares a passionate kiss, making him turn quickly his face away.  
_I bet those boneheads are so happy because they’re going to roast themselves in some California beaches…_  
“Come on, Jon, you can do better than this” he mutters to himself, not understanding the reason behind all this resentment.  
But the truth is that he knows it, he knows it so well: right now Canberra reminds him of Winterfell at Christmas with its giant tree full of lights and presents, the snowball fights against Robb, Theon and Bran, and snowmen built with Rickon, Hodor and Sansa; of puddings, gingerbread men and brownies baked by aunt Catelyn, and uncle Ned offering homemade mulled wine to all the neighborhood, Ghost running with him in the gardens and the whole Stark family waiting for the fireworks show on New Year’s Eve… of Arya, wearing her messy hair down and trying to catch every single snowflake with her tongue, without noticing the tip of her nose becoming purple and her hands blue – and all because she’s so happy to see the first snow of the season that she has forgotten gloves and beret in her room.  
_Arya… Where’s my little wolf right now?_  
“Knowing her, she’s in the middle of fence training” he ponders “I must write her an e-mail as soon as I come back to the campus; this internship at the observatory is sucking all my energy, I hope she’ll understand”  
He thinks of the day he left Winterfell to study Astronomy at MIT, with Arya so mad about him having to go all the way to Massachusetts to study ‘his precious nebulas and supernovas’ and threatening to send him inside the biggest black hole ever if he didn’t come home as soon as possible.  
He kept his promise that week, and the weeks after. He always kept the promises he made to Arya.  
Maybe it was because she was his favorite cousin – they shared much more than the eyes or the long, thin face – or maybe because she had always been able to remind him that somewhere, in this world or others, we all have someone who will love us unconditionally, no matter what we do or how many miles are keeping us apart.  
And that’s what counts for him, a young man who’s studying centuries-old stars to better understand what kind of magnetism lies beneath his cousin’s being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Elton John’s _The Bitch Is Back_ plays in the background*
> 
> I’m not gonna waste any time, because this chapter needs a few explanations, but know that is good to be back ;)  
> A strong headcanon that I have for Jon is that his major would totally be Astronomy; that’s why I made him study at MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology), a high-top private University.  
> He chose the Department of Earth, Atmospheric, and Planetary Sciences and I think that the Starks can totally handle his tuition.
> 
> I also have to add that Jon would surely be one of the best students and, in this one-shot, he’s currently doing an internship at Mount Stromlo Observatory, just outside Canberra; they’re a major partner in the construction of the Giant Magellan Telescope (Google this, awesome stuff!) and he’s working really hard.  
> I don’t know if April snow in Canberra is a common or a rare thing, but in this fanfiction it totally pisses off our protagonist and leads him to a painful nostalgia, so that’s the important thing. x'D
> 
> I don’t think I have anything else to add, so see ya all in the next chapter!


	6. The breath that passed from you to me, it flew between us as we slept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The castle sleeps, the stables slumber and the Godswood seems to rest too._

####  _The breath that passed from you to me, it flew between us as we slept_

#####  **[Between Two Lungs – Florence + The Machine]** [ _[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KgGKp4p3AGg)_ ] [ _[lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/florencethemachine/betweentwolungs.html)_ ]  
**{ _Missing Moment_ }**

It’s night.  
The castle sleeps, the stables slumber and the Godswood seems to rest too.  
Two shadows lie under sheets that smell of pine and home, facing each other, guarding each other.  
The tiny one is curled up next to her best friend, her head resting upon the chest of the person that has always understood her.  
He twists some of her locks, absent-minded. He can’t sleep: tomorrow they’ll have to part, and only the Gods know how much time will have to pass before they’ll be granted the chance to meet each other again.  
_I shouldn’t be here,_ he thinks, _tonight less than the other days._  
But the girl, as if hearing his thoughts, snuggles up to him; heavy lidded, her face nestles in the crook of his neck and her skinny arms envelope him as best as they can.  
Jon sighs, grazing her wet cheeks with his thumbs and a heavy heart.  
_Tomorrow shall come and make a man out of me, but for today let me be the same silly boy as always._  
His silent sobs fly from his trembling mouth to Arya’s warm lips, filled with unspoken promises of a future together and the will to choke back all their fears.

It’s night.  
The girl wakes up in the mud, breaths trapped in her throat.  
She struggles to let out all of ‘em, but she can’t: Harrenhal is surrounding her, and she won’t give it the breath – _his breath_ – she’s still guarding after all these months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I tried to imagine one missing moment of the saga: Arya that wakes up in Harrenhal, in the middle of her sleep, after reminiscing her last night at Winterfell with Jon.  
> I kinda like how I portrayed both Jon and Arya’s fear for the future, but also their will to keep on going for the sake of their beloved one.  
> So yeah, I guess I haven’t got anything else to add x'D  
> Lemme know if you liked this short writing, I’m always glad if I get any kind of comment :')


	7. Oh, little one, your Hemingway jawline looks just like his… our father in exile for God only knows how many years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in Italy, under the Fascist regime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **lil’ Italian - English vocabulary / historical explanation**  
>  - _piazza_ : town square  
> - _stronzate!_ : bullshit!  
> - _Goffredo_ : Joffrey, obviously :D  
> - _squadristi_ : Fascist squads that fought against socialists; they intimidated voters when election time came and kicked demonstrators against the regime. They were called Blackshirts for their clothes and were the inspiration for Hitler’s S.A.  
> - _stornello_ : a type of improvised rhymes, typical of Central Italy  
> -the Fascist government used to exile its political opponents, a phenomenon known as _confino_ ; in this one-shot Ned Stark is far away from his family, serving his exile in Lipari, a little isle near Sicily  
> -drinking castor oil was a frequent punishment that Fascists inflicted on their opponents, and Arya here is part of the Anti-Fascist Youth

####  _Oh, little one, your Hemingway jawline looks just like his… our father in exile for God only knows how many years_

#####  **[Strange Mercy – St. Vincent]** [ _[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8JwXCBi-Eh8)_ ] [ _[lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/stvincent/strangemercy.html)_ ]  
**{ _Fascist Italy!AU_ }**

“… I wish Father was here.”  
It was less than a sigh, but sufficient to divert Jon’s attention from the people that were coming out of the church and pouring into the piazza like a river of ants.  
“Arya…”  
“Listen, he would have supported my – _our_ – cause, instead of mortifying what me and the guys are doing” the girl hissed, trying to sit up and failing miserably in doing so.  
“Easy there, little wolf” her stepbrother warned her, a tenderness in his voice that she had missed for a long, long time “You got a couple of broken ribs, remember?”  
“Nope, thanks for reminding me” Arya grinded her teeth as he put a pillow behind her back, helping her to sit up “But I guess I was lucky: they kicked Gendry’s head and forced Hot Pie to drink castor oil”  
Jon sighed, taking her hand: “You know better than me that your mother cares about you, huh? It was just her way to say that she’s worried about something bad happ-”  
“Stronzate! She’s still pissed off because Father has refused to pledge loyalty to Mussolini, so Sansa’s engagement with Goffredo has gone to the dogs”  
“ _Goffredo_ …?”  
“Goffredo Baratheon, the son of the party official… doesn’t ring a bell?” Jon shook his head, so she shrugged “Whatever… a fascist pig, that’s all you need to know”  
“I’m starting to think that giving you _A Farewell to Arms_ before my departure wasn’t a good idea… another serious reason for your mother to hate me”  
“Don’t say that!” the girl hurried to kiss his knuckles and fingers “I missed you – we all missed you – and I’m so, so happy that you’re finally here”  
The guy’s heart softened: there she stood – all edges, fierceness and ashen eyes, just like their father – and not a single tear shed for her shattered bones or the squadristi kicking her with their truncheons… it was him who she was crying for, the person she feared would abandon her.  
“I’m here to stay, little wolf…” he hushed her, mussing her tousled hair and swallowing against the lump in his throat “Now try to get some sleep, it was a long day”   
Jon took her in his arms and she was finally able to close her eyes, lulled by his caresses and the stornello that was coming from outside, sung by the husky voice of an old lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A Farewell To Arms_ came out in 1929, but in Italy it was first published in 1948; censorship banned it because of its anti-militarism and the honest description of the Battle of Caporetto, which brought great dishonor to Italy’s Armed Forces.
> 
> I think that this piece can be set between 1942 and 1943, but surely before the Armistice of Cassibile.  
> Jon has spent a few years away, but news of Arya’s dangerous involvement in the Anti-Fascist movement has made him come home, to find his family more unsettled than it has ever been.
> 
> Now that I’m finished with my history nerdiness, I can only cross my fingers and hope that you will like this chapter :) Feedback is really appreciated, thank you!


	8. You know that you will always lose this trembling, adored, tousled bird mad girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I want my bride back, I will have my bride back._

####  _You know that you will always lose this trembling, adored, tousled bird mad girl_

#####  **[Burn – The Cure]** [ _[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aj-9-3f0kr8)_ ] [ _[lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/cure/burn.html)_ ]  
**{ _Missing Moment_ }**

He was still holding the letter and brooding over its content – _I want my bride back, I will have my bride back_ – when he heard all the shouting and Wun Wun’s suffering roar coming all the way from Hardin’s Tower.  
Once there he could only notice that the wounded giant had already slaughtered Ser Patrek, but didn’t seem to make an end to the torture he was inflicting to his corpse.  
“Let him go!” he shouted, but Wun Wun didn’t mind him, keeping on swiveling what was left of the poor man like a child with his toy.  
That reminded him of Arya as a kid, wielding her doll to defend herself from her vegetables share, and he couldn’t help but smile at that memory.  
_She never tore her dolls to pieces, though._  
Jon tried again to persuade the giant to let Ser Patrek go, without success, so he chose instead to keep the rest of the situation under control: asking help from anybody who could speak the Old Tongue to calm down Wun Wun and pleading everybody to sheathe their swords were his two main tasks, but Castle Black was heaving with chaos and fright.  
“Calm, just keep calm or you’ll scare him more!” he screamed, noticing the glint of a blade “I said to put your weapons awa-”  
He stopped in mid-sentence, his voice coming no more; blood started to crawl in his mouth and down his neck, his hands touching his throat in bewilderment.  
“W-why?” he asked faintly, turning his gaze to the knife still held in Wick’s hand.  
“For the Watch.” the other man simply replied, attacking him again, but this time the dagger found Jon’s hand and, after a brief struggle, fell on the floor.  
He tried to grab Longclaw with his bloodstained fingers but failed, clasping instead only air.  
Then it had been Bowen Marsh’s turn, whose resentment had made his dagger stand where he had pushed it, forcing Jon to remove it himself.  
He fell on his knees and called for Ghost, but no red eyes came to his rescue.  
_I want my bride back._  
He thought of Arya, her scraped knees and toothed grins, the tousled hair he used to muss even more and the warm laughter she always let out in his company.  
_Stick them with the pointy end._  
He thought of Arya, refusing to bend the knee before Ramsay, her swollen lips and bloated eyes, her silent weeping when she was sure that nobody was hearing her.  
_I wish you were coming with us._  
He thought of Arya, fierce little pup that she was, riding a horse and enduring winter’s harshness on her way to Castle Black.  
_Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle._  
“I’m so sorry I failed you, little sister” his lips mumbled, tears slowly streaming down his jaw.  
He buried his face in the snow and let the exhaustion wash over him.

The shadows came soon, slipped him away from the memories he was stubbornly clutching to and let him finally rest.  
A raven screamed in the middle of the night, singing sad songs about siblings love and duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Burn_ by The Cure is a wonderful song, the main theme of my favourite movie ever, _The Crow_.  
>  I must admit that I’m kinda satisfied with the final result; this one-shot is maybe the best I’ve written right now :'D  
> So yeah, enjoy it (maybe leave me a little feedback? pretty please?) and let’s hope that I’m gonna see you in the ninth chapter too! ;)


	9. And when I go there, I go there with you... it’s all I can do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dystopia!AU: _where the story is set in a society that’s undesirable or frightening, often characterized by dehumanization, totalitarian governments, environmental disaster_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another first attempt at another popular trope: here Jon and Arya aren’t related.

####  _And when I go there, I go there with you... it’s all I can do_

#####  **[Where The Streets Have No Name – U2]** [ _[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FsrPEUt2Dg)_ ] [ _[lyrics](http://www.u2.com/lyrics/168)_ ]  
**{ _dystopia!AU_ }**

“How long ‘til the dome?”  
“I don’t know… Maybe five miles, maybe six – hopin’ it doesn’t start to rain, otherwise we will have to slow down”  
The young woman snorted: “As if I’m not bein’ enough of a burden myself… I told you to leave me behind, I’m just making you waste precious time”  
“And I told you that I’m not leavin’ you anywhere,” the man stopped and turned to face her “I wanna be with you and that ain’t a waste of time, for sure”  
His beam made her broken leg hurt less.

Under the moonlight the desert looked like a pale, still sea, and in the distance you could still see the menacing cloud of dust moving peacefully, as if aware that its destructive power didn’t need any hurry to perfectly work.  
They went beyond some buildings – or, better to say, wrecks of ‘em – eroded by the rain that had fallen a couple of hours before, and shivered when they caught sight of what was once a hand, its flesh still held together by a rusted chain.  
“We will win where others have failed, Arya; I promise you” he promptly resumed to speak, trying to divert his companion’s attention from those gruesome remains.  
She trusted him ever since the first moment their eyes had met; their world didn’t allow any choice, but they both chose to have them all the same.  
And here they were – chosen lovers, chosen partners in crime – at the edge of a microcosm they never truly belonged to.  
They found each other because they were both outcasts, dreamers disguised as normal, disillusioned people, and yet it had only occurred a single glance to make them recognize one another as fellow beings.

“Is that all? A crack in the dome and we’ll be finally able to leave behind our stupid lives?”  
“So it seems” Jon said, inspecting the opening “Hold on, we’re going to overstep this damn thing.”  
He carried her through the hole and when they resurfaced on the other side of the barricade they both held their breath for a couple of seconds: the dome’s glass had always been obscured, preventing them from having even the slightest idea of what they could have encountered once beyond those walls.  
“Is… is that the citadel I spot on the horizon?” Arya stammered with hesitancy, her lower lip already quivering.  
She had always heard of it in the old tales, stories that all the children knew by heart: it was a legendary place, built by brave yet foolish men who had chosen freedom and knowledge instead of the glittering cage of ignorance that the government offered them.  
“We did it, my love”  
The young man embraced her and, while still holding her in his arms, proceeded to take the first steps on the smooth cobbles of a path. It had been years since the last time he had seen strands of grass.  
Behind them, the old world was burning under a cloud of dust; in front of them, a new dawn for their life together was slowly rising. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s explanations time!  
> This dystopia!AU is set in a future world: people are living under a glass dome in the middle of a desert and since their birth are fated to marry a certain person, to have a particular job... long story short, their lives are written by the government.  
> Oh, and there’s also that funny, toxic, dusty cloud that spits acid rain. Yeah, I know, very funny indeed.
> 
> People that choose to rebel against what the government has in store for them are tortured, imprisoned and/or sentenced to death; the same is for those who try to escape the city and reach the citadel, a place where other runaways have started their own society, built from freedom and wisdom.
> 
> So Jon and Arya met a few years before this story takes place: they were immediately smitten with each other and began a secret relationship, seeing that they were both already promised to other people.  
> They both faced punishment and finally decided to flee the city in order to build a new life together in a society that will allow a decent future to their children.  
> (I admit it, the citadel people are 100% inspired by the exiled book-lovers of _Fahrenheit 451_ , one of my favorite books: I just love the whole idea of people learning books by heart in order to not let them disappear because of the dictature)
> 
>  
> 
> Sooo! See ya in a few days for the last (!) drabble of this collection, and feel free to leave me some feedback on this chapter, okay? That would make me really happy, thank you :3


	10. Stranger, lover… come heal in my arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She dances on the battlefield – left foot, right foot and then a perfect strike – like some sort of mad ballerina with her long hair free to flow in the wind, and mentally counts how many bloody Lannister soldiers have already received her gift._

####  _Stranger, lover… come heal in my arms_

#####  **[Stranger/Lover – Ibeyi]** [ _[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KL3vruW0YBM)_ ] [ _[lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/ibeyi/strangerlover.html)_ ]  
**{ _post-GoT_ }**

“No one.”  
That’s what she says every time someone sprawled in the mud asks her name, hoping to beg some forgiveness, only to find a cold pair of eyes and a needle stuck into their flesh.  
She dances on the battlefield – left foot, right foot and then a perfect strike – like some sort of mad ballerina with her long hair free to flow in the wind, and mentally counts how many bloody Lannister soldiers have already received her gift.  
She’s still so young and yet she has already faced so much madness, so many battles that would surely make a sane man reel and crawl.  
She doesn’t reel. She doesn’t crawl.  
_Valar morghulis._  
The smell of blood makes its way through her nostrils, the familiar metallic taste already filling her mouth; without flinching, she keeps on slaughtering every single enemy that comes in her way.  
_Stick ‘em with the pointy end._

The moment Jon sees her, he has just finished to stab one of those filthy Bolton supporters; she’s spinning across the battlefield, dodging thrusts and returning them with much more grace and precision.  
One after another, each man that presents himself in front of her falls like a dead leaf, crumbled without any pity.  
He can’t stare at her for a long time, though; other soldiers are coming and he must do what has to be done.

When Longclaw has fulfilled its duty and he’s able to spend a minute to regain his breath without the fear of being killed, his eyes immediately find her again: an ever closer murderous little thing, her once light robes dripping with blood of all the victims she has claimed, fierceness and elegance oozing from every single pore.  
Reality strikes him hard when he catches a tiny detail, a quick change of expression on her visage as she twirls round a couple of knights, piercing both of their hearts before they can even question what’s happening: the hint of a smile, full of pride and satisfaction yet so innocent and childish.  
He shivers.  
Many moons have passed since the last time he has seen that smile, but he’s still able to recognize it everywhere.  
_Arya._  
“Arya… _Arya_!” he finally shouts out, Longclaw hitting every goddamn Lannister on his way “ARYA!”  
She seems not to hear him – or maybe she’s pretending not to, intent on slaying other unfortunate enemies.  
By now Jon is running at breathtaking speed, hoping to reach the young woman before something bad can happen to her; it doesn’t matter if she’s already proven able to take care of herself, he doesn’t want to lose her again.  
Her name escapes his lips many other times, and he could swear to have seen her stiffen, if only for a couple of endless seconds; she immediately regains her composure and turns to face him.  
“Valar morghulis” she hisses, before trying to stick him slightly above his heart.  
He dodges the lunge by a hair’s breadth, and if that single smile hadn’t been enough to make him recognize his long lost cousin, surely the skinny blade that has almost pierced him would have done.  
“You still have it” he murmurs, astonished “I can’t believe it…”  
Her only answer is to make the little sword whirl, leap forward and attack him again, this time grazing his right shoulder.  
“You talk too much”  
“Seven hells, Arya, it’s me! Don’t you recognize me?”  
“Don’t know you nor any Arya; I only know myself, and I’m no one” she replies absent-mindedly.  
“Look at me!” he roars, taking her by the shoulders “Look at me and tell me again that you don’t know who I am”  
She bites his hands, kicks him, tries to free herself, but that only makes his grip tighten.  
“Tell me, ‘cause I know who you are, and I can swear by the Old Gods and the New that _you ain’t no one._ ”  
She could hit him with a single strike and leave him to die without turning back. She doesn’t.  
The young man makes the most of the opportunity: he takes her face in his hands and quickly brings it closer.  
“We used to finish each other’s sentences, always stuck together and our eyes mirror each other: _stick me with the pointy end_ , if you don’t believe me. I know you can do it, _little wolf. I know you can._ ”  
She gasps, and reels, then falls.  
Jon’s hands find her before she can touch the ground. 

Out of the corner of his eye the young man sees Ghost and Nymeria slowly stepping in the battlefield, walking on hundreds of mangled corpses and followed by dozens of other direwolves with their fur stained with blood and a spark of majesty in their irises.  
They reach and surround them, as if they were the leaders of this solemn pack, and Jon can only give ‘em his silent gratitude.  
“J-Jon…”  
Still clinging to him, Arya struggles to talk: the lump in her throat is almost choking her, but she feels the urgency to explain him everything.  
“Hush, little wolf” he tucks the loose strands of hair behind her ears, strokes her cheeks “It’s all over now, you’re safe”  
“Jon, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”  
“I know, little one” he kisses her lashes, her forehead, the tip of her nose “I know.”  
The past has come again to swallow both of them, but this time he will save her. They’ll save each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s how I imagine Jon and Arya’s reunion could happen: I mean, I have a lot of different scenes of this event in my head, but this one is probably my favorite :3
> 
> So, this is the end of this short yet intense adventure: I’d like to thank all the wonderful people that has read this collection, left me kudos or a few words :)  
> You’re an amazing community and I’m so glad to have fought my writer’s block by writing about this great pairing; I couldn’t have asked for better readers :')  
> I also can promise you that, if you haven’t suffered too much while reading these silly ficlets, you’ll surely have some chances to do it really soon: I’m currently brainstorming for a multi-chapter Jon/Arya AU and I expect to start working on it as soon as possible :D  
> ... and I also want to write on other ASOIAF pairings that I love, like Sandor/Sansa and Jaime/Brienne, so stay tuned!  
> Have a nice day and thank you all again for making me feel at home in this fandom; it means a lot. ♥
> 
> Sara


End file.
